


Begin Again

by valkyriors



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M, First Meet, Fluffy fic, Idiots in Love, Medium Burn, everyone being cute, i think, i’ll update tags as i write, me projecting constantly, meet cute, oc named juliet, spencer being cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25766029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyriors/pseuds/valkyriors
Summary: Walked in expecting you’d be late, but you got here early and you stand and wave.(Also known as, stumbling across the perfect Spencer Reid.)
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Character, Spencer Reid/Original Female Character, Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 54





	1. Letters to Juliet

_Dear Spencer Reid,_

_Hi. My name is Juliet, I believe you knew my Grandmother Bree- you used to play Chess with her in John Marshall Park on Sundays. She passed away two weeks ago, comfortably, in her residential care home in Arlington. I’m sorry that I was unable to extend an invitation to the funeral, however I didn’t find a copy of your address until I was sorting through her belongings today._

_I’m unsure if you and her were very close, but I know that she often spoke of the ‘young man’ she played chess with in the park. Those chess games were her favourite. I used to visit her twice a week and she would often mention her most recent game with her chess ‘nemesis’._

_She didn’t get much of a chance to go out and act ‘normal’ these past few months, but I know that your simple games of chess meant a lot to her. I’m unsure why she finds the game so enjoyable, maybe she played it much more when she was younger, but I’m happy that she was able to forget about her condition for just a few hours once a week. I’m glad that while the Dementia took away a lot from her, it didn’t take her spark._

_I confess, I spent my last few months trying to learn how to play chess in the hopes of playing against her one day- I was never any good beforehand. I’d hoped to at least be an opponent that wouldn’t be too easy, but I never had the chance to find out. I’m sorry that we never had a game, I’m sure she would’ve been so grateful, but I hope that now she knows of my efforts and intentions._

_I’m in fact writing to ask if you would like to play a game of chess with me, in the same manner you would with her, if you are available this coming Sunday. I wouldn’t ask anything of you, as I would hate to infringe upon your regular pass-times, but personally I would appreciate the gesture. I can state definitively that I will not in any way be a very good opponent, though I suppose it could boost your confidence if you happen to be having a bad day._

_I’m unsure if it is even appropriate for me to write you this letter, as all I know of you is the short ramblings I would hear before my Grandmother would go off on a tangent about something else. I’m sorry if I’ve in any way overstepped, but I hope you can see I have good intentions. She told me you were old fashioned, which is why I decided to write this letter._

_If you decide not to reply I wholly understand, but I wish you the best in all your endeavours and I extend a huge thank you for being so kind to my Grandmother._

_Best wishes,  
Juliet_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Dear Juliet,_

_I’m sorry to hear of your Grandmother’s passing, she was a great chess player and an even greater woman. I’ve played chess every week (or so) in the park for the past few years, most often among the other young boys who like to loiter in the park. Bree boldly approached me and a friend asking if she could play against one of us, as she didn’t have a partner to play with. I of course said yes, and soon enough we played together very often._

_I’m afraid she has not told me half as much about you as I think you have heard of me, but I would most definitely like to play a game with you anyway. Don’t worry about your experience level, I’m sure we can have a non-competitive game and chat about whatever you would like. To be honest with you I’m not a very conversational person, though I try my best, so maybe you can help me with that and I can help you with chess in return._

_2:30pm?_

_See you there,  
Spencer._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting Spencer Reid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the character's inner monologue is in a first person 'we' narrative purely because that's how my own inner thoughts are. Is that weird? I don't know.

You decided to walk to the park. The weather was nice, you weren’t sure how long you’d stay, parking was expensive- yeah, you’d walk. The early afternoon on a Sunday was usually the time you’d run any errands you had, but this seemed a fine thing to do instead. You could shop tomorrow. 

You thanked the Gods you’d put on a cardigan before you left your apartment, pulling it just a little bit tighter as a gust of wind shot down the street. Your mind decided to run along with ideas of everything you hadn’t done today, as it always did just to torture you a little bit more.

_ Didn’t drink any coffee, great, now we’re a little tired. Did drink lots of water, now we need to pee; is there a bathroom around here?  _

_ Baked a few more cupcakes than was probably necessary last night, should’ve brought one for Spencer. Could I’ve? No, that’s weird. I’ll take them into work again. Should I’ve bought him a present? Maybe a coffee? I can buy him a coffee later, if he likes. _

_ I have no idea what this guy looks like. He won’t be weird, right? What if Nonnie’s idea of a ‘young man’ is a guy in his 50s? Am I gonna have to spend ages trying to figure out who he is, or what if he doesn’t turn up? Oh God I'd be so embarrassed if I got stood up.  _

Walking past a small coffee house you decided to use their bathroom and buy a cappuccino to-go. Then you decided to play some music through your earphones to drown out your thoughts. A fall playlist. 

In the park you found it wasn’t too busy, just a few people seated around the chess tables and a few runners and dog-walkers passing by. It was cute, you understood why Nonnie would insist on coming here.    
  


Not wanting to make your presence known too quickly you decided to take a seat on a bench just a bit back from the chess tables, just to see if you could spot Spencer arriving. It was nearly half past the hour, so you took a few quick sips of your cooling drink as you not-so-subtly looked around. 

There were two older men sitting at one table, engaged in what seemed to be a casual game going by the lack of a timer. But they seemed too busy to be wrapping up soon. Instead you looked over to the two younger men at an adjacent table, one a smaller asian boy and the other taller and book-ish. 

A timer sat on their table, but the game seemed to be over as they spoke. You wondered (hoped) if the taller one was Spencer- you could see how Nonnie could’ve gotten an ‘old-fashioned’ vibe from his clothing. But he was cute, shaggy hair and a blazer that didn’t quite fit his shoulders- he seemed to have an unintimidating presence, the kind of boy older people would dote on.

You watched as his friend left, a small wave of goodbye before Spencer whipped a book out of nowhere. Maybe he wanted to look busy. He looked around his surroundings once, looking for someone, before hiding the timer that had sat on the table and busying himself with the book.

That seemed to be your cue to head over.

His head popped up moments before you made it quite too him, so you gave him a sweet smile and a wave. He reciprocated. “Spencer..?” You spoke with a questioning tone, and smiled a bit brighter when he nodded in response. 

“Juliet.” He confirmed nicely, getting rid of his book and sitting up just a bit straighter. You took your seat across from him when he gestured, perching semi-awkwardly on the stone stool. “Um- It’s really nice to meet you.”   
  


He spoke like he’d forgotten the etiquette for a minute, but his nerves seemed to ease you. You wondered if your friends would call you strange for meeting a stranger in a park. “You too! It’s nice to put a face to the name. I’d shake your hand but I don’t know if that’s too formal, and my hand’s a bit cold anyway.”

You tried to use a chirpy voice, hoping some faux confidence would make the greeting feel just a little less awkward. You were never any good at meeting new people, you liked to skip to the bit where you knew each other well. “That’s okay.” He smiled again. You wondered if you were both smiling to hide the awkwardness. “I don’t really like shaking hands anyway.”

“Too clammy?” You spoke while furrowing your brows in question, trying to sit yourself more comfortably in the chair. It didn’t work, but he seemed to ignore your shuffling.

“More of a germs thing.” He corrected unassuredly, and you shrugged in response.

“That’s fair, though you are currently sitting on a public bench.” You grinned at him, and he laughed easily for a minute. Your mind seemed to relax more as you slipped into easy conversation. 

“Well I try not to think about that, but thank you for reminding me.” You giggled, as did he, enjoying one small moment of calm between you. His presence was definitely comforting, you supposed it was the old librarian aura he had. 

“My pleasure.” You responded easily, shifting to run your eyes across the chess board. The table was just slightly too high for your eyesight, but you refused to sit up on your knees. “Okay I’m gonna warn you, I only just seem to know which pieces can move where. I watched as many strategy videos as I could, but they were kind of confusing.”

He shook his head at your words. “That’s fine. Do you want to just play or do you want me to talk you through the moves?”

You pondered for a second, running over how useless you might be in your mind. Would he be patronising? You couldn’t be sure, but it’s a good way to gauge him as a person, right? “Maybe I could just go for it and you can tell me if I do something terrible? I’m sure you’ll still win no matter what.”

He nodded politely as you grinned at yourself, gesturing to make the first move. The guy in the videos always moved the third pawn in first, you thought. So you did. Spencer nodded approvingly. 

“So…” You started, watching the boy across from you make a move. He didn’t even seem to think about it, just reaching across and moving a pawn two spaces. “What do you do?”

“Play chess, read a lot, think.” Shrugging he looked up to you, a small smile on his hips. You smirked at him then made another move. 

“You don’t look like a hardened criminal, so I’m gonna let that blatant evasion slide.” You said with your smirk, to which his eyes lit up. “Well I work for a human rights charity here in DC. I do a bit of freelancing too, a bit of travelling sometimes, it depends.”

He liked how you managed to keep it a little vague, not silly enough to spill everything to a stranger. But a charity worker, he liked it, it fitted you.  Your handwriting had an openness too it, but you still wrote with some purpose. He'd considered that trying to profile your handwriting was an invasion of privacy, but then convinced himself he was just making sure he wasn't putting himself in danger.

Human rights could be anything if you freelanced too, maybe immigrants or vulnerable women, maybe even the people he helped on cases. It seemed sweet next to his job as an FBI agent, calmer, but still helping people. More people who stood up for the little guy were needed in the capital, and he wondered how much of an impact your work had, but it didn’t seem like a question to ask right now. 

“When I was younger I always wanted to help people.” Spencer offered up, and it was true, he always wanted to help people like his mother. He didn’t end up doing that, but that was an inner turmoil for another day. 

“Do you help people now?” You asked him, looking up from the board. When you made eye contact he nodded. “You don’t look like a politician.”

“Oh, I’m not in politics.” He corrected. The way he shook his head was cute, it made you soften for a moment. 

“Good. I don’t trust politicians.” You quirked a brow when you spoke, and Spencer nodded again. He wasn’t a big fan of politicians either, he didn’t know anyone who did. 

“W-who said you could trust me?” He stumbled a little, trying to add in a little banter like his friends would tell him to. Social cues weren’t always easy but humour had a pattern. “I could tell you to make a move that’ll make you lose the game.”

You giggled then, realising where he had been going. You weren’t exactly expecting him to kidnap you, but you definitely weren’t holding your breath. But he made you smile. 

“That’s true.” Agreeing, you waited for him to make his next move. “But would you do that?”

He paused, you could probably see his sheepish look. “No.”

“Well then.” You laughed again, then gestured to the board. “Which move would you recommend I go for now?”

“Hm.” Looking over the board he spotted 3 good moves, two including a knight and one with a pawn. “I’d move your knight to take my pawn, then that gives you control of the centre of the board.”

You mumbled an ‘okay’ then made the move, smiling when he told you it was perfect. Sure it was childish, but you’d spent so much time watching videos of the game it was nice to feel validated. For a moment your mind wandered from your interaction with the cute boy to think of how much your Nonnie would've loved this.

30 minutes later you found yourselves on your second game of chess, trying to keep the conversation going for longer. Somehow the pair of you fitted together easily, the rhythm of the conversation perfect for both of you. It was especially odd for Spencer, and still plentiful surprising for you. 

“Okay so growing up I kind of had this- I don’t wanna call it ‘irrational’, but- this obsession with dinosaurs?” Your words sounded like a question, and Spencer gave you a nod anyway. He’d pretty much forgotten the game of chess at this point, just enjoying your rambling conversation. He wondered if he was as appealing when his own words ran away from him.

It was nice to talk about something that didn’t revolve around serial killers for once in a while, and in exchange for listening to your ramblings you seemed to listen to his. He wondered if it was just ‘first meeting politeness’, but there was a sincerity to your smiles that made him think otherwise- had he always been this lucky?

“Anyway, I still love dinosaurs, I think they’re super cool, but I’ve still got this huge T-Rex plushie that I made my mom buy me when I was like 11. It’s literally just sat in the back of my closet.” Your easy laugh made Spencer laugh in turn, caught up in how easily you spoke and how sweet you sounded. 

If he was being dramatic he’d say he’d listen to your words forever. 

“Actually, the name Tyrannosaurus Rex comes from Greek and Latin words meaning ‘Tyrant Lizard King’.” 

“Really?” You called out with a bright smile, eyes lit up like a child. Clearly your fascination with dinosaurs hadn’t faded. 

He nodded with his own small smile, making you pull a face. “I can’t believe you have dinosaur facts stored up there.”

Well he didn’t have many, but he was definitely going searching for some dinosaur-related books on his way home. 

“What kind of secrets do you have stored in the back of your closet then, Spence?” You asked simply, looking up at him with your cutest eyes. 

“Secrets? None.” You raised your brow to challenge him. “But I guess I do have a magic set that I save for special occasions.”

“See? Everyone has something dorky hidden in their closet.” You laughed, not bothering to make the next move on the chess board. Neither of you minded. 

“I wouldn’t call magic dorky.” He protested, but you didn’t argue back. 

“Hey, I like magic, it’s still dorky though. Are you any good at it?” You asked earnestly, taking Spencer by surprise. High School seemed to have drilled into him that magic tricks were inherently bad if he wasn’t showing them to a kid (or he supposed his very child-like co-workers).

He shrugged. Modesty is hot, Derek said, going against almost anything he knew about his older friend. “I’d show you a coin trick but they’re rattling in the bottom of my bag, and if you watch me look for one it’ll ruin the novelty.” It was true. 

“Oh, you can do ‘coin tricks’ magic! That’s the best stuff!” He wasn’t sure what you meant by that, but mumbled some kind of agreement anyway. “I think I could remember a card trick I learned in college if I tried hard enough, that’s my stretch. It wasn't very good either, I'm sure you could explain it with mathematics.”

Spencer knew already he absolutely adored you. 

When he'd stumbled onto the topic of his intelligence- "Okay then, Mister." "Actually my honorific is Doctor."- you'd gave him a strangely dazed and enamoured reaction. You'd asked him about his degrees and what he did his dissertations on, and listened and best as you could despite the evident confusion on his face. People rarely pretended to be interested in his STEM degrees.

He didn't manage to start many conversations himself, but found it easy to add something in his own points to whatever you said. It was nice, he always found it hard to have a rhythm with someone. His own conversation points tended to be ‘over-shares’ normally, so he’d gotten into the habit of cutting down his words- though you seemed to suck up everything he said. You'd only stopped him mid-speech once, just for clarification on something he'd said a little too quick- it made him blush. 

You were friendly, it was weirdly refreshing. He hoped he wouldn’t alienate you when he inevitably found his way into longer rambles. 

Later you’d tell him that his rambles weren’t as much of a ‘bad habit’ as you imagined he’d been forced into believing. His interjection of facts and other small tidbits seemed to satisfy the part of you that always googled an actor when watching a film. You liked knowing the small things, and Spencer supplied them endlessly (and in a far cuter fashion than any web browser).

You realised barely 10 minutes into your meeting with Spencer that he needed some prompting for conversation, it was probably a shyness thing. It didn’t bother you in the slightest, always happy to start a conversation (and well practiced in it too, since you had your own word vomit whenever you felt anxious). 

He seemed to listen to all of the small things you offered up, actually offering something in return rather than the usual “really?” or any other alternative you were used to. You’d sworn off having overly-affectionate thoughts on first meetings, but the way his head perked up sometimes could only be described as ‘puppy dog’. 

God he was cute. 

“Hey um, do you want to come and get a coffee with me? It’s getting chilly and I could really go for some caffeine….” _Worst ask out ever_ , you cursed yourself, but he seemed to light up nonetheless. 

“Yeah, if you want me to.” He nodded a lot more enthusiastically than you expected, and you smiled again. _Puppy dog_. 

“Definitely. I like your company.” Again, probably too forward, but he seemed like the shy type. If he was into girls then you’d just hit the boyfriend lottery, everybody say thank you Nonnie. 

Spencer was too busy forcing down his flush to see your own fluster, and the cogs turning in your head. 

Soon enough you were standing in line at a local chain coffee shop. Spencer had inadvertently ended up standing quite close to you, thanks to the small area by the till. You didn’t mind, but feeling his chest only inches from your back made you heat up. Maybe it was because he was tall. 

“Please can I get a large cappuccino and whatever he’s having.” You looked up to him, waiting for an answer. 

He stumbled over his words. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I’ll get my own.”

“I just wanna steal your points for my membership card.” You wiggled the small card in your hand with a smile, so he stumbled in reply again. Your smile just seemed to make him blush. 

“Oh, can I get a large black coffee then, please?” He gave an awkward smile to the girl who stood behind the counter. She didn’t seem too focused on what was happening around her- you didn’t blame her, you’d worked behind a till before. 

As you and Spencer moved to find a table you let your minds run in the moment of silence. 

You noted how Spencer took a handful of sugar packets as you walked past the counter, like a kid stealing candy from a pick ‘n’ mix. You immediately wondered if he could be any more dorky, but you hid a smile anyway. You assumed he was just being himself, which made you feel far more relaxed (and slightly besotted, not that you'd admit it).

Spencer kept thinking about how you ordered a large drink, meaning you probably weren’t a rush. He was both flattered and terrified that you’d want to spend more time with him.

He suddenly found himself devolving into thoughts of how he most definitely wanted some advice from one of his friends on how to approach this. 

Then his mind turned to Garcia. Then the time she got shot by a man she met in a coffee shop. 

_ Oh god he needed to stop thinking.  _

“So black coffee…” You started as you sat on one of the smaller tables in the back. You’d already placed your drink on the table. “You’re either trying to impress me or you actually drink that liquid tar.”

“Tar is a liquid.” He corrected off-handedly, and you shook your head playfully at it. “And I do drink it, I like lots of caffeine.”

“I like caffeine too, but i’d rather drown it in milk first.” You shrugged, taking the lid off your drink so it could cool. 

“Actually, caffeine can improve productivity and brain function.” His words barely registered with you as you suddenly watched him tip in all of the sugar he’d stole from the counter. “Including memory, mood, reaction times and just general mental function.”

He looked up to you, seeing you paused and staring at him. Then he realised you were looking at his drink. 

“You can’t seriously drink all that sugar can you?” Your words were in an exclamation of surprise, a shocked laugh threatening to spill. He shrugged. 

“It balances out the bitterness.”

“Then why not get a vanilla shot or something? All that’ll kill you!” By the grin that dawned your face he knew you were joking, and he shrugged again in response. Usually his co-workers prodding at his sugar consumption bothered him, but your lighter reaction made him want to blush. 

“You’re odd. I like you, Dr Reid.” You took another sip of your drink, and Spencer brought his own up to his lips to hide his rosy cheeks.

You proceeded to spend the next hour or so continuing to chat, a variety of things coming easily to your lips that seemed to amuse you both. Spencer could feel his socialisation energy bar decreasing, but it seemed to balance out with how much he enjoyed listening to you. 

The learner in him couldn’t help but soak up everything he learned about you (not that he’d forget anything you said anyway), and he slowly felt himself creating a perfect image of you in his head. 

_It's not profiling,_ he told himself, _it's filling in the blanks._ He just wanted to know you as much as possible, and he wondered if that's what it felt like to be Garcia constantly. 

Soon you were no longer just the girl with the compassionate and easy-going handwriting: confident and detail-oriented letters, wide spacing and loops that meant you were of no threat to anyone. 

Then you were Juliet: reasonably new to the city, someone who considered friends like family even if you hadn’t made many friends in the city yet, and somehow equally a good talker and listener. 

You liked dinosaurs and cats, stayed up to date on politics even if you found it confusing, and liked to read the occasional crime novel, but only if it wasn't based on real-life events. He thought it was ironic, but didn't mention his job anyway. Your favourite books had 'interesting lead characters', as you'd said. 

You studied Spencer in your own way too: shy but easing every second more you spoke, a humble momma’s boy and Las Vegas native, and not quite self-assured, but a part of you knew he’d grow into that intelligence. His degrees in science compared to his mentions of old literature didn't quite fit, but you noted it regardless. 

He was just like the boys you formed crushes on watching television but never seemed to meet in real life, and you slowly felt yourself realising just how comfortable his company felt. 

If you managed to flower a new friendship into something more than that, you’d like to think that giving you Spencer Reid was your Nonnie’s last act of love before she passed away. 

She always _was_ one of those older people who were painfully perceptive. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI!!! Thank you for tuning into this story!!! I'm not organised enough to have any kind of update schedule for this, but I'm aiming to have at least one update a week.
> 
> Juliet isn't really an OC, I'm not providing any kind of physical description of her because everyone should be able to project on a character as beautiful as her. Think of her as a romanticised version of yourself (hence her gorgeous name!) 
> 
> Until next time lovelies :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a cute lil day out

When Thursday night came around, Spencer sat on his couch to write his weekly letter to his mom. They used to be almost daily, but somewhere along the line he found that writing weekly or bi-weekly letters worked out better- after all, not that much happened in his life anymore. 

But with his biro pen in his hand, the only words he could think to scramble across the page surrounded one person: you. 

You’d been texting every now and again over the past few days- not Spencer’s favourite method of communication, but he wasn’t going to decline. You’d complained about a 2 hour long meeting at work, told him of a nice cafe you’d found on the way home you thought he’d like (which made him more pleased than he’d like to admit), and even sent him a cute picture of your cat. He was called Winnie, after the yellow bear.

Spencer in turn had sent you a picture of a mocha he bought under your recommendation for more ‘adventurous’ coffee orders- he complained it wasn’t strong enough but agreed that the chocolate flavouring was a nice touch. 

He decided to scrawl down a few words about a girl he met in the park playing chess, saying that her favourite book is Emma, she encouraged him to drink weaker coffee, and that she has a really beautiful smile. After that he wrote a few extra words about his week at work, but they weren’t very important to him. All he cared about was you. 

He imagined (he knew) that Diana Reid would adore the girl he met, even if she always was a little skeptical towards the people he met. She always said they wanted to befriend him for his intelligence, his looks and his sweetness- though he wondered what else he would want friends for. Oh well, his mother didn’t always make sense. 

After he finished his letter he folded into the first envelope he grabbed from a drawer, and decided to slip it into his messenger bag so he wouldn’t forget to post it. 

It hit 9pm and he made his way to the kitchen to see if he had any chamomile tea left.

**Message from Juliet**

One episode of Doctor Who later his phone dinged, and Spencer let his book fall down his side so he could grab it. When the signature ‘Hotch’ name didn’t appear, he smiled. 

**J:** _ You like books, right? _

He does. You know that. 

**S:** _ I do. Why? _

**J:** _There’s a trunk sale this weekend and they always have lots of books. Fancy going? I’ll drive._

Second hand books, his forte, he loved it already. Plus an opportunity to see Juliet again was not going to go amiss. God he hoped he wouldn’t get called away for work. 

**S:** _ Sounds great. Time and place? _

**J:** _Saturday, 9am and it’s about 15 minutes out of Baltimore. Dress for heat. :)_

Spencer’s wardrobe was not exactly the best for warm weather, despite living in Virginia. He decided he’d manage in a regular t-shirt and some sunglasses, he usually did anyway. 

If he had a shred less dignity he’d probably have immediately called Garcia or JJ and asked what it meant when a girl asked him to go shopping with her. Shopping? Maybe not the right word for a trunk sale and maybe JJ would give better advice than her techy counterpart- Penelope would just freak out.

He decided he’d keep Juliet to himself just a little while longer. After all, they were just friends for now. He was far too excited by her text messages to leave it as friends, but last time he’d tried to breach the friendzone it had just ended in embarrassment for both parties. Maybe he’d just wait and make sure she definitely liked him too. 

You smiled down at your phone when Spencer agreed to go with you, even if you just wanted an excuse to see him again. You hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to ask him out on a proper date yet, but he had a contagious sweetness that made you want to see him anyway. 

A trunk sale seemed like a good idea when it came up, you wondered if it would seem like the worst attempt to friend-zone someone ever. It wasn’t, it definitely wasn’t, but it definitely wasn’t your best idea.

  
You made a mental note to try and veer the day into something a little more ‘date-like’ when you had the chance, and if he let it happen then you’d be sure you had a shot. Right?

Maybe lunch? Or try to hold his hand? Or-

It was odd how after only being in his presence for a few hours you felt as if you knew exactly the face he’d be pulling as he read your texts. You supposed he was just one of those people, but the mental image of him crinkling his brows was cute enough to make you smile. 

You’d spent a solid 40 minutes reading into some of the books he’d mentioned (Okay you only remembered the author’s name, but you read through a list of their books until one sounded familiar). Hopefully you’d find a book by them, or someone similar, and he’d think that you had good taste.   
  


Okay, childish plan, but you couldn’t stop thinking about his literal 3 PhDs, and they were mildly intimidating. 

Spencer’s Friday at work consisted of coffee, paper work, and more grim coffee. Nobody would prefer to have a case in the field, but it didn’t stop days stuck in Quantico from being unreasonably boring. Maybe serial killers were losing their touch. 

By lunchtime Morgan and Garcia had made a trip out of the office to find some sweet treats for everyone, including Hotch, who made sure to take the dessert with the most chocolate. Indulgences, everyone supposed.

JJ mentioned that her and Will had found some kind of voucher to visit a local zoo for free, perfect for Henry, while Emily insisted that ‘literally anything’ would be more interesting for a young boy. Spencer’s mind wandered to some statistics about how most zoos don’t provide a good enough environment for most animals, but decided not to ruin his best friend’s weekend. 

“Plans for the weekend, pretty boy?” Derek turned to him, making Spencer spin his chair just a fraction to face him. He shrugged.

“Shopping.” Not a lie, but he kept his face as indifferent as possible despite how his mind ran with; _‘This girl’s taking me shopping and she’s kind of amazing!! I’ve spent the last week thinking about her constantly!! I don’t even know if it’s a date!!’_

Luckily nobody was phased by Spencer’s short answer, and Penelope took it upon herself to start ranting about a play that’s just been announced. 

Unsurprisingly Spencer was sitting in his living room at 8am on Saturday morning, already ready to leave the house. There was something particularly satisfying about placing your head on your pillow on a Friday night knowing you didn’t have work the next day, but in the most torturous way possible, Spencer’s body clock woke him at 6am regardless.

For once he didn’t mind so much, since his day wouldn’t quite just be filled with books, coffee, and the weekly trip to the gym that he’d started forcing upon himself- most of the time he’d meet Garcia there too. 

He wasn’t a fan of Saturday morning television reruns, so he picked a few books from his newest pile and read away while he ate some toast. 

Your alarm woke you promptly at 8, so you dragged yourself into your shower in a sleepy and dazed state. It helped to run off the nighttime heat of a summer in Virginia. 

By 8:15 you’d text Spencer just to confirm, and he replied with a ‘Definitely’ (and a smiley face, since he’d noticed you liked to use them). By 8:40 you left your apartment, double-checking the address Spencer sent you before you left. 

“Morning, Spence!” You said with a cheery smile, as he climbed into your car. It was probably a tad too small for him, but you only used it for driving yourself around anyway. “Sorry I’m so early, your place is on the way to a drive-thru I want to stop by.”

“It’s okay, I was ready to leave anyway.” He gave a nonchalant shrug, and you gave him a silent thanks. “I can pay for whatever you get to make up for last time.”

The drive wasn’t too long, and you busied yourself with some extra chat about your week. Luckily it was still early and the heat wasn’t overbearing yet, but Spencer smiled gently when he caught a flash of your eyes from underneath your sunglasses. 

“I um, I kind of want to clarify that I didn’t mean anything when I invited you here, I realised 10 minutes after I text you that this was kind of a weird choice.” At your words Spencer eased slightly, after spending his own time worried about the decision. He liked how you both had the same train of thought.

“It’s okay, I’ve been dragged along to a few of these before anyway- my friend likes the jewellery.” His mind wandered to Garcia, who liked to find anything and everything that featured a bright colour. 

_Friend_. “No, I know. I don’t want you to be one of those people I drag along to places- I just don’t have any proper friends in the city yet and I wanted an excuse to see you again.” 

“Oh.” _I wanted to see you again_. His heart fluttered at the thought. “Well I wanted to see you again too.”

“Good.” You said with a bright grin, blushing and refusing to look him in the eye. He leaned his head back wistfully, turning to watch you while you drove. 

Soon enough you were trawling between cars in an open field, stopping by tables that interested you. Spencer just seemed to follow you, only stopping himself once to look at a collection of old postcards. 

The sun was starting to burn, so you hoped you’d lathered enough sunscreen on your bare shoulders. Even the grass you walked across was yellow with the recent heatwaves, but when you turned to Spencer there wasn’t an inch of colour on him. 

He’d probably burn easy though, you guessed, and offered him some of the sunscreen from the bottom of your bag. 

“So um,” He started, dotting some of the cream on his face. He seemed unfamiliar with the action, like he’d never put it on before, but the small dot he placed on the end of his nose made you giggle. “Do you mind if I ask why you don’t have any other friends in the city?”

“Don’t worry I’m not a murderous psychopath.” You stated with ease. Spencer’s mind ran to the humour of you making that specific statement, but kept it to himself with a smile. “I just haven’t really had a chance to socialize. I’ve been out for drinks with some people from work but it’s not as easy to make friends now than it is in college.”

“I don’t usually do much outside of work either.” He confessed, still rubbing in the cream. His hands suddenly looked very appealing. “I mean, my team at work are probably my best friends anyway, but don’t tell them that.”

You laughed. “Well apparently the only person close to my age I’ve met was friends with my Nonnie. What’s that rom-com where the guy works in a care home again?”

He didn’t pick up on your flirty joke, and answered more honestly. “I don’t know a lot about pop culture.”

“I’m a self-proclaimed expert on it, so I’ll have you caught up in no time.” You grinned regardless, thinking of how cute he was he didn’t understand. This boy is something special. 

You weaved through the small stalls together, chatting lightly about whatever came to mind. Spencer managed to find a few books he liked, and gratefully put them in the tote bag you’d remembered to bring. 

At some point you’d wandered off, finding Spencer again 5 minutes later and offering him some of the water you’d just bought. He paused before taking the half-drunk bottle and sipping it anyway- _hydration, pretty girl, I’ll be fine. What a hypocrite_ , he thought to himself a second later. 

You realised he’d stopped at a small stall filled with jewellery, women’s earrings and rings mostly. When you furrowed your brows he cleared his throat and gestured to keep walking. Suddenly the small necklace he’d shoved in the bottom of his pocket felt really heavy. Next time.

The chain was pretty, a small green gemstone sitting in the centre. He hadn’t even meant to end up at that stall, but suddenly he was looking at the jewellery and he couldn’t help but want one for you. 

When he looked closer at it the woman behind the stall started talking to him- “I bet it’ll look great on your girlfriend! It’s only $20.” You weren’t anywhere in sight, nor were you his girlfriend so it was surely just a line to sell- but he couldn’t help but think _Yeah, it’s nice._

So before he knew it he was handing over a green bill and accepting the small box it came in, and he shoved it into his pocket before you got too close. Maybe after a date, he’d just have to ask her out first. 

He doesn’t know everything you like yet, and he doesn’t know your opinion on flowers (he hates them, they just die after a week anyway)- but jewellery is nice, people like jewellery. For a second he wonders if he should invest in some kind of jewellery for himself, but then you’re stood in front of him again. 

_ “Water?” _

You’re both wandering over to a couple of food stalls when Spencer’s phone rings. He groans and pouts with no explanation as he brings it to his ear, so you take a step back to let him talk. Shame, you thought, you were about to try and hold his hand. 

“T-that’s my job.” He says with a sigh, his pout doesn’t move but you think it’s cute anyway. “I, um, have to go in. I’m sorry. They call me in and I just have to go.”

Now you pout, the day getting cut shorter than you’d intended. He’s visibly annoyed too, but at least it gives you a glimmer of hope he’ll make it up to you. 

“That’s okay.” You reassure him, noticing the tension that’s creeped onto his shoulders. You’d forced him to buy his own tote bag at some point since he kept trying to put books in yours- it hangs off his right shoulder and has some kind of eco-friendly logo on the side. 

“I’ll have to find a subway station-“

“Don’t be silly, let me drive you.” You offer nonchalantly. It’s warm, there’s no way you were letting him get into a cramped train in Washington. Plus you’d drive him regardless. 

“I’ll be fine, I always get the train.”

“Spencer, I’ll drive you- unless you’re heading somewhere over an hour out I’m not gonna charge you a penny.” You smile again, and he seems to accept you’re not taking no for an answer. Some extra time with you didn’t seem like a bad thing, anyway. He just hates dependency. 

He doesn’t say anything, just nods and gives you a smile. “So… where are we going?” You ask after a second, giving him a teasing look. 

“Oh, erm… Quantico?” He doesn’t seem sure with his answer. He hadn’t gotten to the FBI agent bit yet. 

“Are you an agent?” You say with an incredulous laugh, and he nods sheepishly. _Oh god, librarian Spencer is an FBI agent. No way_. “Really?”

You try not to act too surprised, though it’s already glaringly obvious. The tension on his shoulders doesn’t let up. “Yeah, Behavioural Analysis Unit.”

“Huh.” You say after a beat, letting a smile break out on your face. When you look up to him again he notes that the gleam in your eyes never really fades- and it’s infuriatingly pretty. “Genius and an FBI agent.”

“I’m their resident ‘know-it-all’.” He says the term slightly begrudgingly, and you laugh since you know it’s true. You still couldn’t imagine him with a vest and gun on. 

“Everything I learn about you sounds like an 18 year old describing her dream guy.” You say with your laugh, which makes him let out his own small laugh. He’s nobody’s dream guy in his head, but the compliment warms him a little anyway. Or maybe that’s just you. 

You should meet Morgan, he thinks, but once again remembers he wants to keep you to himself. 

40 minutes later your car is parked up in the FBI’s multi-storey, and you’re both munching on some food you’d found at a nearby drive thru. Your lunch had gotten cut short anyway, and Spencer claimed he couldn’t take food into the building. 

He was lying, but it didn’t matter ‘cause you agreed to chat and eat with him until he inevitably got another text from Hotch. 

“Weirdly, this is so much better than whatever $5 burrito they were gonna be selling at that food truck. Plus we’re out of the sun.” You sip on your milkshake once more, barely paying attention to the car radio draining on between you. 

Spencer’s nursing a hot coffee in his hands, something you definitely wouldn’t be drinking in this weather but he claims he needs it for work. You stole the loyalty sticker from his cup anyway. 

“I’m sorry it got cut short.” He’s apologising again, sincerely as ever even though you’re visibly unbothered. Occasionally someone in a suit pulls up and heads in the building, so you try to guess what kind of agent they are. Technically he’s not meant to make jokes at the sake of other agents, but he doesn’t know them and neither do you, so he files it under a gray area. 

“He..” You pause, pointing to some man in a suit too big and a briefcase in one hand. “Is clearly an intern, he looks uncomfortable already.”

Spencer agrees, the clothes are a giveaway. He hadn’t tried to profile strangers since he was fresh out of the academy and excited to try out his skills, and with you it seems as fun as that. 

Suddenly he sees Morgan swanning out of his SUV. He panics, but then remembers that you don’t know him and he won’t recognise your car. 

“Oh!” You gasp excitedly, taking another sip of your milkshake. “He’s definitely one of those agents that thinks he’s super strong and invincible- like on tv when they kick down doors while holding their gun.” 

The accuracy of your stray statement makes him laugh, and he wonders if the BAU needs any new profilers currently. 

After a second he realises that if Morgan’s arrived he should probably force his own way through the doors. 

“I should probably go before I’m late.” He says with a scrunched nose, not wanting to move a muscle. 

“Yeah, of course. That’s what we’re here for.” Awkwardly you remember you hadn’t just came here to make fun of government officials. “Text me whenever.”

“A-actually,” He starts speaking before he thinks of what to say- the only way to actually force him to ask. If you hadn’t been having such a nice time you’d be worried he was about to drop you. “What if we went on a proper date?”

“A proper date?” You repeat with an almost dazed grin, and he gives you an awkward nod. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

He gets caught up smiling at you for a moment, and then his phone’s ringing again. Late. “Sorry! I’m really late, I have to go, I’m sorry for leaving so suddenly. I’ll text you later.”

In between his words you’re uttering reassurances and trying not to giggle, passing him his tote bag after he climbs out of the car. 

“Bye, Spence!” You call out your window as he scampers towards the elevator, turning back to give you one last wave. 

You’re still smiling and shaking your head as you drive out of the lot. 

Once he makes it into the bullpen he drops his bag at his desk and heads up to the briefing room. Everyone else is there, so he mutters an apology and slides into a seat. No one seems to notice. 

It’s wheels up in 30, so everyone makes their move and he runs into Garcia at the coffee machine. 

“Hey, Reid?” She asks as she takes the coffee pot from him, filling her own colourful mug. He doesn’t have anywhere to rush off to, so he stands and waits for her to chat. “Why were you late when your badge pinged in the parking lot 20 minutes ago?”

If his mug was at his lips he’d probably splutter on the coffee, but it’s not, so he just coughs to hide his embarrassment. Again he thinks he has a terrible poker face for a profiler. 

He wonders if she thinks he was doing something he probably shouldn’t, so he decides he has to say something. “I was, erm, chatting.”

“Chatting?” She asks with that same cheeky look she always has. “With the cute girl who drove you here?”

“Why are you checking the CCTV on me?” He whines, giving her a plain look. She shrugs with a half-assed apologetic smile. 

“What? You never drive! I was just checking in on you.” She smiles again, her impending questions about the girl already at the ready. “You have to tell me all about her! Is she your girlfriend?”

“No, she’s not!” He groans, avoiding her gaze. “Have you been looking her up?”

“No!” She protests. “I needed to ask you about her first.” 

_Lie_. She’d put in your number plate almost immediately and found most of the surface level details about you. Juliet LaRue, 26 years old, works for a national organization for immigrants. Only child and all her family members live in Maine- she moved to DC 7 months ago. 

Somehow Spencer believes her anyway. “Okay, I’ll tell you about her after this case, just please don’t mention her to anyone else yet. I wanted to keep her to myself.”

He didn’t mean to say his last sentence, but it’s clearly the one that persuades Garcia to make the deal with him. She likes seeing her boy happy, and his bashful smile means that he’s just that. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m probably gonna update this weekly!!!💕💕


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